Arizona Desert...2:00 P.M.

Arizona desert-2:00 p.m.

on May 16, 2005. ©-MFB- All rights reserved


Blast furnace workers

would feel at home here,

they would bask in

the ripples of heat rising

from the desert floor.


They would sit calmly in

gleaming metal chairs


eating BBQ sandwiches,

and smoking cigarettes


without a drop of unnecessary

sweat falling from their brow.


They would then go back to

shoveling the scalding sand


in huge piles, muscles

flexing like falcon wings


and never alert you to the fact,

or recognize to themselves


that the heat is bothering them

(((((o))))))))((((((((o)))))))(((((((o))))))((((((((o))))))))(((((o))))))

I on the other hand...am melting,


I'm a Popsicle


in the middle of concrete,


in the middle of August


in the middle of the inner city


at the base of a child's foot,


who weeps at my passing

.
Endless drops of hot

saline spill over me


their tears immerse me, soak me


though I feel as dry as a saltine.


The only thing cool here is the scenery,


the most I have to look forward to


is one foot....two foot....repeat if necessary,


until I reach sanctuary

from this huge adobe kiln.


If God was an Indian potter


I would be just about ready


to be pulled out, and set aside,


fired into a pillar of salt,


a fossil of clay,


awaiting his masters touch


his vivid colors,


those same pigments that he stroked


and textured lovingly


across the lands around me.

((((((((O)))))))))))((((((((((o))))))))))))))))))((((((((((o))))))))))))
)))))))))(((((((((((o))))))))))(((((((((((((((((o)))))))))))o(((((((((((

I trudge on, as a wisp of smoke

rises from my head.


They say it is the hottest

part of your body,


and the heaviest...

I'm sure they are right


if I could just remove it

and drag it behind me


on a tendril of stringy flesh,

I would be much happier


as a headless torso.

..
dancing mindless

through the wastelands
with my head trolling along

...a yo-yo of bone,


what a Dali-like picture

that would make.


O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O O

Suddenly before me

appears a glinting speck,


which is my car on

a tiny grey ribbon,


which is the highway that turns

my head to other pursuits.


I'm quite finished with

my around-the-world trick


and I am now walking my

hot dogs to this new destination.


My pace is brisker,

my head lighter

I am thinking of those


cold Buds on ice,

waiting in the trunk of my car


I am remembering

the air-conditioning that will


bathe me in frosty fresh

flows of freon.


Now I am again the

civilized man, driven to it,


and soon to be driven

from this furnace.


Eternity slips by,

a blur in shades


of beige..green...

and brown and finally


I stand beside the salvation

that transported me


into this hellhole....

I fumble for a moment


and then panic ensues...full blown


when I cannot find my keys,


eyes darting like a

lizard's on a fat juicy fly,


scrambling like a roadrunner

under a coyote moon.


I have visions of the keys

hanging on some saguaro cactus,


or laying on a rock where

I'd paused to suck warm water


from a now empty canteen....

dry tongue clacking disbelief


but then.................


I feel them in the

corner of my knapsack


now fully removed,

discovered by their jingle-jangle.


Jiggling... fumbling.. bumbling

and then inserting


my passport to less

extreme conditions


into dual locks

as I climb aboard.


Bud in hand,

fire the engine,

quench the thirst


and bask in the

blasts of November


from their heaven sent vents.


It is only then that

I pause and gaze


all around once more

at the breath taking vista

I'd traversed...and for a moment


I am saddened to be

leaving it all


in spite of the heat.


Matthew F. Blowers III-(c)-2006

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